72 Miles Apart
by Utopist
Summary: Literati. Rory and Jess, New York and New Haven, cell phones and weekend visits. Just because of Lyds and her banner challenge.


Disclaimer: Here we go again. I don't own the characters, I don't own Shakespeare, I just don't own.Speaking ofownership, since I own nothing aside from books, cds, clothes and my laptop... would those justify the costs of a lawsuit?

This is my answer to a challenge Lyds threw out, based on a banner she made. The banner is over at the Stars-Hollow challenge thread. Will be multichapter, maybe. And pointless, probably. But loveable. Set in Rory's junior year at Yale.

This is for Lyds, 'cause she challenged. And 'cause I love her.

The teddy bear line is for Chris, 'cause she asked for it. And 'cause I know it'll make her smile.

And I write because a lit is a lit is a lit. We don't go down without a fight. This is me fighting.

Chapter 1: I Need my Cuddly Wuddly Teddy Bear.

"Get off my case, Larson. I'm not doing it."

"Come on Mariano. You owe me. I need to take Mary-Anne out, it's our one year anniversary."

Jess can almost hear his co-worker grin. "Besides, it's too late to change the schedule back."

"Could've asked." He mumbles, knowing he can't do anything about it. Frederick Larson messed with the shifts behind his back, and now it's simply too late to bring things back to their original status. He glowers at his cell phone and clicks it off without even saying goodbye.

_Rory's gonna kill me._

He promised his girlfriend that they would have gone to Star's Hollow this weekend, and now that... dickhead, for want of a better word, tampers with the shifts schedule and completely screws their plans up. Meaning he has to work at Dempsey's Pub. With the weekend crowd. He hates the weekend crowd. He sighs, and starts dialing her number, taking the long route instead of the speed-dial.

As he absentmindedly counts off the rings, he recalls another, excruciatingly painful phone call.

**Flashback**

His hand toys with the coins in his pocket. A mental picture of himself, with money in outstretched hand, pondering whether "To call or not to call" flashes through his mind.

_Get over yourself, Mariano. You're no Hamlet. A screw up, yes. Hamlet? No._

He distracts himself from what he's doing. He watches from outside as round coin after round coin is fed to the metal slot with a metallic clink, and runs words and thoughts through his head. No matter which angle he looks at them from, he cannot seem to extract from them a satisfactory thing to utter. He convinces himself that he will be able to come up with something to offer the moment the phone'll ring...

Or the moment she'll pick up...

Or the moment he'll hear her voice...

He has called a total of twenty times, at random hours. _But who's counting, right?_

A year ago, had anybody predicted to Jess Mariano, sarcasm king of NYC and Star's Hollow one and only juvenile delinquent, that he would have been standing in front of every single payphone in Venice Beach, speechless, holding a receiver to his ear... Well. Let's just say that person would have surely acquired a whole, new perspective on what is usually known as "sharp comeback".

_Hell, yeah._

He is like this because of a girl.

And Jess Mariano is not one for sap.

_Hell, no._

It's been less than a month since has last seen her.

_Twenty fucking times._

He has been missing her like nothing before.

He had known she was going to change him. He had fought it, denied it, resented it, resigned to it, accepted it, welcomed it. _Should've fought it harder, Mariano!_

He knew she had known he was going to change her. She had fought it, denied it, resented it, resigned to it, accepted it, welcomed it. _Should've kept on denying it, Gilmore._

He thinks, but it is only a moment, that they shouldn't have allowed any of this.

He knows it's bullshit.

Rory Gilmore and Jess Mariano had proved to be as similar as they were, are,different. An entirely too large number of people has looked at their relationship from the outside, and given the opportunity to pass judgement, some innocent bystander might have formulated an inane analysis such as the overly used, and insanely cliched:

"They are as day and night".

No.

Not them.

They are, if anything, as dawn and dusk. One is night, leading into day. The other is day, leading into night. Light and darkness meeting, mating, at morning and evening.

There had been upsetting of balance.

There had been downtearing of structures.

There had been attraction, plain and simple, which had sorted effects worhty of waves on sandcastles; Jess Mariano had been havoc, and Rory Gilmore had taken the enitire force of his wreaking on herself.

_She speaks_

"Jess, is that you?"

_Speak again, bright angel._

"Jess, I'm pretty sure it's you" _Yes, it's me._" And I'm pretty sure you've been calling and not saying anything..."

**End of Flashback**

"I love you!" Answers the voice on the other end of the line. He stares at his cell phone in utter disbelief.

"Rory? What's going on?" His tone is just slightly worried. Such an answer usually means Rory is on the verge of a nervous break-down. In fact, her next answer all but confirms it.

"You just saved my life." He pictures her, a little trick he has learned in the past year and a half, something that helps him missing her less when the distance seems to wide to be bridgeable.

Hair messily pulled back from her face...

"Paris again?" His question is gentle and playful.

... Blue eyes strained and haggard gaze...

"Paris again. This is the fifth time she had me proofread the article she's writing. I've been trying to tell her that there is no way she can improve it any more... but... " She stops her ranting rambling to ponder. Her voice falters just a little. "Why are you calling, Jess?" Her tone becomes concerned, as she searches her memory for his brown eyes.

"I need a reason?" He is still being playful.

They call each other nightly, not at a set time and not even for a predetermined amount of time, but from seven PM 'till one AM it's fair game..

"Nope. But it's my night, and I would have called in about... two hours. What's up?" She wills herself not to worry. Sometimes she hates the 72 miles that separate New Haven from NewYork, Jess from Rory, his life from her life.

"Fred." He admits, finally.

"What about him?" She thinks she can almost hear him growl. _Not good_, she thinks. _That's not good at all._

"Apparently, we switched shifts for this weekend." He closes his eyes, waiting for her reaction. He is not disappointed.

"This... weekend." Rory repeats. "Jess! It's our Star's Hollow weekend!" Her tone is angry.

"I didn't switch shifts on purpose, Rory." He reminds her gently.

"But, we were supposed to be together." She pouts.

"I know." He sighs.

"In Star's Hollow." She pouts more.

"I know." He sighs again. "I miss you." He whispers into the phone. It's been four days since they last met. Thursdays have become unwelcomed days. It is when they miss each other the most.

"I hate you..." She whimpers, also into the phone, causing him to widen his eyes.

"Why would you say that?"

"'Cause I love you." That matter-of-fact statement is enough to make him smile.

"Right. Of course. Should have known... I'm sorry. I know it was supposed to be a Star's Hollow weekend... I wanted to change the schedule back, but it's too late. And I think Fred's life would be in danger if I did."

"Really?" She leans agains the glass pane of her dorm room window. The sun is setting, bathing the sky in orange and pink hues. She briefly wonders if the stars will be out tonight.

"Anniversary. Mary-Anne."

"Oh... Say no more, my friend. That girl is deadly. So you're stuck?" She recalls a memory, a sunset quite like this one, the two of them reading under a tree in the campus until there was no more light to read by. There had been kisses, then, and huddling under a blanket while looking for shooting stars.

"All fucking week-end. Damn it to hell and back, the motherf... Rory? Why are you laughing?"

"Cause you make me laugh when you curse." It has since stopped bothering her, the NYC side to him. She is almost twenty-one and Jess cursing isn't the worst thing she's had to face

"I'm telling you I'm stuck at work, all weekend, and you laugh at me? Nice. Feeling very supported, here." He protests. "Aren't you mad?"

"Not your fault. But I am going to miss you."

"Can't we make this a New York weekend?" He wonders out loud, baiting her. Again, she doesn't disappoint him.

"I told my mom I'd go home." She says firmly.

"You went home yesterday." He points out.

"That's because she had a fight with Luke. She needed me." Her resolve is suddendly not so resolute.

"So? She saw you already." He grins, knowing he has her.

"And my grandparents..."

"You'll drive to Hartford and have dinner with them on monday night, like you always do when you come here..."

"And Lane..."

"She's busy practicing for the audition with that record company".

"How do you know that?" She has only known for a couple of days, and things have been so crazy she hasn't told him about this yet.

"How d'ya think? Dave called me yesterday. She is driving him up a wall. And I get to be on the receiving end of the Rigalsky venting fit... Rory?" He listens to the snorts coming over the line."What is with you tonight? Are all my predicaments so funny to you?" He tries, and fails, his best to sound annoyed.

She is laughing again, a sound she'll never know he loves.

"Sorry." She says unsincerely, trying very hard to bottle up her giggling fit. "I can't get over the fact that Dave vents to you."

"I happen to have a brain, and a girlfriend. As opposed to Zack, who thinks with his dick, and Brian, whose extensive knowledge of the female universe is... nonexistant." He pauses for a beat. "Please."

"Aw. Don't."

"Don't... what?"

"Pout. You're pouting" He almost pictures her stomping her foot.

"I am not pouting." He declares indignantly "I'm a guy. We don't pout." Her mind sees him scowling.

"Fine. You're sulking. And you know it's going to get me to do what you want anyways."

"Ok, so how about we go straight to the part where you say 'I'll be there tomorrow?'"

"Who says I'll come?" She challenges, knowing she will cave.

"'Cause I need my cuddly wuddly teddy bear to sleep." He deadpans.

She grins at his words, recalling the position they always end up in. His arms clutched tightly around her, even in slumber.

**Flashback.**

"Don't say 'no' just to make me stop talking or make me go away. Only say 'no' if you really don't want to be with me." A pause while she considers this." Only say no if you don't love me."

She says nothing. Her face is expressionless, something he wishes she hadn't learned from him he doesn't wait for an answer, and decides to just walk out and leave it be. He has done all he could. He had come here to see if there was any chance to feel alive again, and be with her again, and seek for "reciprocation". It is obvious it's backfiring.

Dead Man Walking. He thinks, as he lets himself out of there, further and further away from her intoxicating presence, and her addicting eyes, and her...

He doesn't get to complete his list as his hands land on the building's door, and a single word floats over to him, making its way over the emotional baggage, the mistrust, the heartbreak, the lies.

It is a simple word, really...

... But it stops him dead in his tracks, and for a moment it is him, her and that word hanging between the two of them.

"Jess..."

He stands there, his leather jacket providing no protection against this. This is what he wants, right? This is what he has been looking for ever since he decided to show up here.

"Are you going to block entrance for much longer?"

He turns around, and finds her to be closer than he expected

It would be so easy to kiss, now, but he holds his ground, pressing his back to the door and contenting himself to hold his gaze to hers.

He figures she has things to say to him, but isn't prepared for the hand grabbing at the pocket of his leather jacket, nor for the force bringing him back to the room he had let himself out of a few minutes prior. The door slams while closingbehind them.

He watches her drop to the ground, seated against a wall, and soon mimicks her movements, mirroring her position instinctively.

Silence drips by like chinese water torture.

"Don't ever do something like that to me again!" Rory explodes all of a sudden. Jess just blinks at her, confusion just a name for what he's feeling right now, but he's sure it's not right on target with the definition.

"Don't ever do... what?"

"Show up here, like this, asking me to go..." _Where?_ She shuts up. When she finds her voice again, hidden in some dark corner somewhere close to her vocal chords, her tone is muchdifferent.

"I can't, Jess." She says gently.

"You can't what, Rory?" he has no right, but he's growing impatient. Sitting here, with her a just a couple of meters away is killing him, can't she see that?

"You can't come with me? You can't be with me? You can't love me? You can't choose between me and Dean? Which is it?"

"Hey! You don't get to yell at me now!" She fumes.

"Then tell me why you stopped me!" He pleads with her.

"You hurt me, Jess" she whispers, but it booms more than the loud voices that crowded the room a second ago.

"You hurt me. You kept coming and going, in and out of my life with hardly a moment's notice"

"I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry, Jess. I know you're not."

"I am not sorry I left, Rory." He brings his eyes to his clenched fists.

She nods. Somewhere along the past year, after seeing him again, listening to him admit his feelings for her and then watching him take off in his sorry excuse for a car... She has come to terms with the fact that, each time Jess left, there had been a need for him to do so. Especially at the end of their senior year. He had been so messed up that nothing in Stars Hollow could have saved him, not even her. He would have sunk, lower and lower, and then there would have been... nothing.

She rests her chin on her upraised knees, circling her legs with her arms. She is suddendly tired and sick of it all, sick of the heartbreak and the defenses, and the running and the lying... She is tired. She is probably not even thinking clearly. But the next thing Jess says to her throws her off balance and sends her hurtling, dangerously close to out of control .

"I am sorry... about... hurting you, and putting you through all that shit... You didn't deserve that. You deserved so much better..." He clenches his fists even more tightly "I fucked up." His expression is injured "... and I'm...just... so sorry."

And her next words tip Jess off center and make his position very precarious.

"Say you love me."

"Huh?" He can only muster up this syllable, and regrets it immediately, seeing anger flashing over Rory's forehead.

"Say you love me..." She repeats, when Jess just stares at her with a "What the fuck?" look on his face. He slides across the dorm room floor, so he can look at her, touch her in case he forgets she's real. He wants to tell her that she should be saying it to him. That he already said it and that he' s here groveling, fucking groveling 'cause he wants her back... But he doesn't. He grovels. He stomps, and tramples all over his non existing pride, stooping while he tells his ego to take a walk.

"I" he slides even closer to her. "... Love" he lets his fingers find her chin, and lift her face so he can hold her, and himself, in place. "... You" his lips close around the last sound.

Drip, drip, drip, drip

Chinese water torture, time leaks by and neither moves

"I..." begins Rory...

She shifts her glance over Jess' features..

"Hate your hair like that"

Her voice is broken and Jess doesn't know whether to laugh, yell at her, or perform his patented Mariano move: raise an eyebrow, roll his eyes, and smirk. He does nothing, as Rory finally uncurls from her position, and sidles over from her spot to fairly land herself on Jess' lap. It's all so sudden, and so violent,it leaveshim catching the wind which got knocked out of him in the process.Rory's face buried in his neck, her hands clutching at his jacket, her body shuddering with sobs, tears scalding as they fall on his skin... He imagines them marking his neck, an intricate web of paths etched along the line of his jugular.

He feels this unnatural desire to tell her all the things that went through his mind during the past year, but it is killing him to just lay there and listen to her cry, and there are no words in all the books he's ever read to paint an accurate enough picture.

"I hate you! I hate... you. What you... did to... me, how you made... me feel..." she sobs out. He does the only thing he can think of, and allows his arms to draw her body to his, trying to let her come to terms with it all. His leaving, his coming back, his being here now. He hasn't quite managed it himself, the decision to hurl himself at her being spur of the moment, the drive here on autopilot, his mind forgoing reasoning. He knew, knows, that had he given it a single thought, he wouldn't be here now. He shudders in response to her sobs.

He doesn't know what posesses him to ask to the hair whipping at his face:

"How... what ... did I make you feel?"

"Vulnerable" she chokes out. "Incomplete." She works her reasoning through her sobs.

"You went... missing, and part... of me went... missing too."

He fleetingly wonders if she'll ever forgive him, for stealing that piece of her and bringing it along with him on his fugitive run to California.

**End of Flashback**

And finally, she caves.

"I'll be there tomorrow." She looks outside. It is almost completely dark. She knows he's leaning against his window, too, looking over the city's busy streets.

"I love you." He smiles into the phone, trying to remember a time when saying them was so, so hard.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Make sure you have coffee." She quips.

"My stash will be satisfactory, M'Lady."

"I love you, too." She brings her lips to the microphone end of her cell phone. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow then. Goodnight, Rory."

"Goodnight, Dodger."

He lets his eyes tilt up to the sky.

The stars are out tonight.


End file.
